When Blood Is Spilled On Moontide: Convergence
by ravenhair1
Summary: PG-13 for angst and gore. Starring Heero Yuy, Voldemort, Padfoot and Moony. The night before WBISoM actually begins.
1. Authors Notes and other things

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When Blood Is Spilled On Moontide  
by ravenhair  
  
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STORY DISCLAIMER *If you are not a concerned party, then you can skip this.  
  
This is my disclaimer for the entirety of When Blood Is Spilled on Moontide: Convergence. There will be another one on my first entry of the main story, When Blood Is Spilled on Moontide.   
  
Firstly, Heero Yuy and all references to Gundam Wing belong to Sotsu Agency Sunrise and Bandai, Inc. All alterations heretofor are my responsibility, and in no way intended to corrupt or defile the source.  
Second, Harry Potter and all canon references belong to J.K. Rowling and Scholastic Books. Characters, situations and terms that are identified in other fandom works, I must insist, are property of their respective owners and not mentioned in my story intentionally. If by this alone, said owners are not satisfied, then I would be happy to receive your e-mail/flame about arguable property and refer to my mistake on a separate Author's Note where said author's works would be happily linked, in apology. For those I intend to put with full knowledge of another author using them, then I have already happily linked said author's work and referred the term/situation/character to the respective stories I lifted them from. Said links would be found in my Favorite Stories section, or a simple reference in my Author Bio.  
  
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AUTHOR'S NOTES:  
  
WBISoM is inspired by the following works, and would heretofore be basing some situations and conditions from these works of fiction: "Garou" by Asuka Kureru (FFNet) and "Call of the Wild" by Wolfie Twins(Diagon Alley).  
  
I have not categorized my story into the crossovers section because, although it is technically a crossover, there is little to no reference to Heero Yuy's world, except in relation to him (i.e. his feelings, accounts of his past, etc.). As far as this fic is concerned, Heero Yuy is immersed in Potterverse, whether he likes it or not, and is bound to be changed by it. And I mean it with all the angst and brooding that Heero Yuy could ever muster, which is, in my opinion, is a lot more than batty old Snape (excuse me for that, I did not mean it, really!) could ever feel on his worst day plus Neville Longbottom.   
  
Of course, despite all the internal turmoil, this fic is by no way a boring ride. And, I swear, I won't just dump Heero Yuy in the HP world the cheesy style. Need I elaborate? I think you should just read the fic to find out!  
  
There are some AU-style setbacks in reference to Heero's world, although that hardly matters to the story. The setting when Heero 'left' was after White Fang, Endless Waltz. So, animé-wise, the gundams should be destroyed. In my story, they aren't. Well, I was debating whether to use that little time gap between Heero's collapse into Relena's arms (yech! I am an anti-Relena supporter) and the time where they send the gundams to the sun for good. But that time, I'm afraid is just too short. Besides, I wanted Heero to actually be in service for a while under the Preventers, and the added manpower of the gundams is just too tempting an opportunity to let incinerate. And, I must reason, only five people in the entire human race can pilot the gundams. Okay, maybe six, but that's it. The world's safe already, suffice to say, even with the gundams present. So, you'd be getting a glimpse of gundams at work before we say goodbye to GW-verse.   
  
There is the situation of having too many prologue parts. I was planning on making them chapters, and am actually going to separate the prologue from the main story because of this. When I started the fic, I encountered lots of points of view that I wanted to express, so the story would be clearly understood. I couldn't find a way to fit them in the main as flashbacks and whatnot, because my prologue scenes require isolation, so that limits the opportunity to present them as accounts or in other fashions. So, I decided to have it as two separate stories. WBISOM: Convergence and WBISOM. The former is nearing completion as I write this, the latter is still mainly on paper. (I have trouble staying consistent when writing directly on hardrive.)  
  
It has occured to me that having another hero, ahem, Heero Yuy, in a universe where there is already a hero, namely Harry Potter, is like putting two alpha males in one small room. Rest assured that Harry Potter verse will retain its original hero, Harry Potter, and Heero gets to have a separate role. That is, Harry gets to be Heero's, well, hero. It is a constant in HP canon, and I respect that. So, by all means, I intend to make Harry Potter the savior of all. Besides, the universe is named after HIM, s'all. The H2H situation is rather delicate, I must admit, since both have a lot of good qualities that just beg to be explored. Heero, for example, is the silent avenger type. Sort of like Snape, bad and good and generally misunderstood. ^.^ Harry, on the other hand, is the quite-generic humble hero type. Sort of like Frodo. If anything, there'll be lots of philosophizing. (Is that a word?) I promise though, that even if the story is kinda Heero-centric, Harry will never lose his limelight.  
  
So, that's all folks! Happy reading! 


	2. Part 1: Moonshine in the Dark, Forbidden

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When Blood Is Spilled On Moontide: Convergence  
by ravenhair  
  
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PROLOGUE. Part I. Moonshine in the Dark, Forbidden  
  
  
  
'It could've been anywhere but here, but for that damned tree...' Voldemort secretly let slip a sneer.   
  
In the weeks that followed his reanimation, he had been patiently relearning all the facial expressions he could manage with his new flesh. His jaw was more cone-shaped, his cheekbones too sharp and the discreet oval slits which replaced his nose left little skin to be stretched. It was an arduous task to go about, but he knew regaining the value of intimidation would triple his efforts.  
  
But with the acrid stench swirling in the mist-covered ground and the darkness that oozed from the twisted trees that he could clearly see from his red, lidless eyes, Voldemort felt that the Forbidden Forest was starting to get on his nerves. To think that he had survived this place -nay, thrived amongst the creatures of the darkest nature for 12 years, years far too long even for Albus Dumbledore to possibly endure...exposed, vulnerable, lacking a corporeal form to even have a chance to thwart the weakest of evils lurking in the mist...  
  
The forest intimidated him. That much was obvious from Peter's point of view.   
  
Even from his hunched and bowed position, a proper grovelling stance to show servitude to his master, he could feel the Dark Lord's frown close into that terrible serpentine face. Soon, he felt the freezing bite of his master's glare on his bowed head. Peter let out a wince, sensing he has been spotted at the wrong time.  
  
"Wormtail." The venom in Voldemort's voice added poison to his glare.   
  
Peter knew, from being closest to his master this past few weeks, and to have been with him a whole year before, when he was still in a more snake-like form, and with his dratted pet Nagini, that his master has been making work of his new face. The discomfort was palpable, and he would catch his master sometimes fingering his inhumanly smooth green cheeks, and that cone-shaped chin.   
  
'Maybe that's why he wants this potion so badly,' Peter mused. 'He wants a human form so much so he would come back to this place...'   
  
With that, he looked around at the black, gnarled trees surrounding their small clearing. Peter had lit a small bluebell flame when they arrived, and its light gave the trees an eerie palor. It was terrifying him, to say the least, but he couldn't possibly show his fear to an irate master now, could he?  
  
"Wormtail." Voldemort barked out the name this time, a bit angry that his servant was taking his time to come into view.   
  
"M-master, I have b-brought the ingre-ingredien-ts.." Peter stuttered while ambling forward to his master. The mist was so cold, his feet had gone numb already.   
  
Voldemort gave a curt nod and took out a miniscule black cauldron from the folds of his robes. This he set on the stump of the gnarled tree at the center of the clearing, just as the full moon centered above the clearing and covered the trees with a faint silver glow.   
  
To Peter's eyes, the moonlight transformed the mist into a shimmering white sheet. It blanketed the ground in swirling silk curls and, as his eyes followed the direction of the swirls, he discovered that the mist was spiraling up the trunk of the dead tree where his master had set up the cauldron. The moonlight danced on both the cauldron and his master, who was hooded in heavy, black robes. This picture gave Peter this feeling that he was actually witnessing the darkest of Dark Arts being performed tonight. He was honored at this thought, because his master had chosen him out of all the others, even that ambitious prat Malfoy or the Potions Master Snape.   
  
"This here," Voldemort pointed to the tree stump, "is the trunk of what was once known as the Tree of the Dead. The muggles know this as part of a Halloween legend, as an active superstition during the late 17th century, the resting place of the Headless Horseman, and was even suspected to have been a Gate to Hell." Voldemort snorted, the slits of his nostrils puffing out misted breath. "Of course, once the wizard world caught scent of the tale, it had been too late. A witch has already been murdered, along with several muggles, although the former was reported to have been the cause of the Horseman's appearances. Having no other knowledge about this tree except that it was of the darkest kind, the wizard ministry had it chopped down and believed that they successfully killed the magic within it."  
  
"Little did they know that the magic that founded this tree lies deep in the blood of its roots," Voldemort smiled openly, baring his fangs to a terrified Peter Pettigrew. A casual wave of his master's wand signaled the end of the mock lecture for Peter, and the latter watched as a fat twig floated into his view.  
  
"Stand ready, Wormtail. When I tell you, pluck out its heart!"  
  
The fat twig was transfigured into a sickle, which Peter grabbed as he instinctively backed away. Voldemort himself stood aside and aimed his wand at a spot on the ground near the stump. The mist parted, and the ground swelled. In seconds, black gravel and mud was shooting up into the air, forming a hole in the ground and Voldemort did not release his hold for a long time. When Peter saw that the hole must be deep enough for a man as tall as his master to be buried, Voldemort let out an inhuman screech and the ground gave a violent shake and vomitted a nasty heap of, to Peter's eyes, what looked like black bile.  
  
"Quick! The heart! Pluck it out!"  
  
Without a second's hesitation, Peter scurried into the pit in the ground. The sickle gleamed in the moonlight before he was wholly swallowed by the dark. The hole was deep, and he slid unceremoniously down the steep mud slope and into the very roots of the tree.   
  
It was pitch black, and the earth surrounding him stank. There was this odd throbbing sound in front of him, and Peter used his silver hand to light a flame on his index finger. When the small flame illuminated the ground before him, Peter regretted lighting it in the first place. In front of him was the most hideous wall of black worms, some the width of a string, or a noodle, others as bloated as his thumb. They were all swarming in a concentrated mass and, as he peered closer, he noticed that they were swirling in a concentric circle. At the heart of this pattern, much to Peter's disgust, was a pulsing black root, as fat as his arm. There didn't seem to be any hindrances as to plucking it out, but Peter's grip on the sickle just tightened, because he knew it was not possible things could be so easy. Very carefully, he used the tip of his sickle to shove the worms aside and dislodge the bloated pulsing root from its pocket. The instant it fell with a plop on the muddy floor, all chaos ensued. 


	3. Part 2: My Soul, The War, Is Gone

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When Blood Is Spilled On Moontide: Convergence  
by ravenhair  
  
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PROLOGUE. Part II. My Soul, The War, Is Gone.  
  
  
  
'In the center of the storm, lies the calm eye.'   
  
The entire screen was filled with the picture of death. The radar to his left indicated no sign of life, except for his own, which pulsated as a small green dot in the center.   
  
Heero bit his lower lip, uncaring for the coppery tang that tickled his tongue after a few seconds into the pain. There was hardly any pain to begin with. Only grief. Only regret.  
  
'I am too late.'  
  
The piles of debris seemed to be floating in a concentric circle, he observed. They all were in army green paint, or gleaming silver. All the mobile suit parts that weren't mangled by plasma heat, he recognized as Oz-make. White-fang gear. None of the others.  
  
'Where are you?' Heero's thoughts were clouded in the edges, but he was determined to accomplish the mission. He decided to play his instincts, and headed for the center of this whirling metal grave.  
  
Thirty minutes ago, he had received a class-A priority call from Hilde. She was working as a proxy replacement for Noin's position, Secretary-General to the Military Confederate for the Peace-Keeping of the United Earth Sphere. Hilde had been contacted by Lady Une, just before her tragic death in the most outstanding assassination attempt on Ambassador Relena yet. This happened yesterday, much to everyone's frustration and grief. But what Hilde told him next froze Heero to the bone.   
  
"She was in the middle of something big, Heero. She told me she sent the rest of you...the guys...on some surveillance check. But she wouldn't say more. It was too dangerous, she said." There was a short pause, and Heero swore he heard a sob. But when Hilde's voice returned, there was no trace of sorrow, only regret. "Oh, if I'd only known! If I'd paid more attention to what she was telling me. It was a coffee conver-" Another pause. This, Heero noted, was to gather her wits out of rambling. "She sent the guys 0-19 hours ago. It's been more than a rendezvous, I suspect, their passing by Sector A-5, Quadrant 3, Beta-Delta Division 0-4 hours into the mission. The nearest determinable point to it is the place where L5 used to be."  
  
There was a hitch in Hilde's breath. Was it panic? Heero felt his heart slow down. "10 hours into their mission, 9 from now, a satellite bot was blown up in the Beta-Delta Division. It was doing plasma radiation sweeps, for lithium batteries to be scavenged, and its alarm kicked in full before the transmission was cut. You...you know what this means, Heero...I mean, we have no other evidence, nor how many would you encounter...Heero, they brought their gundams along and...and..."  
  
Heero put the phone away, but not before hearing Hilde's last note.  
  
"I hope you'll get there in time.The codes will be in-n D-d-duo-"  
  
Heero banged his fists on the panel. 'Damn you, Une! You should've put me with them!'  
  
As Heero approached the center of this metal whirlpool, the sight he met filled him with dread. On a solid square metal plate, a part of a floor perhaps, stood four shadowed figures that can be none other than the four gundams of his comra...friends. The light of the stars glinted off the polished steel, giving the mechas an eerie lifeless glow.   
  
"So hollow..." The sting in Heero's voice made him wince. His friends, his comrades...he would've given his life for them to live again.  
  
Heero set down Wing at the center of the makeshit platform. The four gundams were spread to the corners, untouched and not battle-bruised at all...oddly enough. There should be no reason to suspect, Heero thought, but took a quick check for existing lifeforms anyway.  
  
The hum of engines...lots of lithium-powered engines, and the thrusters Heero was so accustomed to hear come from his friends' gundams, even from his own, with the gundanium-fortified pipes that permitted only a silent hiss so familiar and unique to their suits' make. These noises weren't what alarmed Heero, though. Not as much as the little red dots covering the rest of the radar 360 degrees.  
  
"Heero Yuy, pilot of the Wing Gundam, ex-Preventer, we have you surrounded."  
  
'UNE!? What was she doing--SHE'S SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD!' Heero's eyes widened in shock. His nerves a bit frayed, he felt numb upon hearing that damnable voice.  
  
"I'm sure you're glad to see me, Yuy," the deceptively sweet voice streamed out of his communicator. "After you've tried to kill me AND Relena."  
  
'What the...!?' Heero slammed his palm on the off button. But it was futile. Une was also broadcasting through speakers. Her voice filled the cockpit.  
  
"Hey, buddy! Hehe, I'm sure sorry to see you this way."   
  
'DUO!' Heero made Wing turn to face Gundam Deathscythe. Sure enough, its green eyes glowed as its pilot held the sickle ripper-style. The mad grin that Duo had painted on its face not long ago was glaring menacingly at Heero at the moment.   
  
"I guess your silence says it all, Heero. We've got to end this now."   
  
Duo's voice quivered, but he sounded determined. Determined to end...what?  
  
"I cannot believe you'd turn from the light. I won't accept this...this injustice," A sharp breath. "We cannot afford another White Fang."  
  
Wufei.   
  
"Take off that mask, Heero. You're no Zechs Merquise," Sad, pleading. "Let the soldier go, Heero. Let go, please, for your sake."   
  
Quatre.   
  
"Let go, Heero. Or we must do our job."  
  
Trowa.   
  
"Surrender now, Heero Yuy. War is gone, the violence must stop. You must stop, or else you're better off wherever the war went."  
  
'But...I did nothing...wrong...'  
  
"G-good...bye, my brother." Duo choked, the sound of tears fading into space.  
  
'What have I done? Not to deserve a second chance...?'  
  
The green flash of Duo's scythe was the last Heero ever saw, before darkness finally took him.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"I did nothing wrong!"  
  
Heero bolted out of his seat, gasping for breath. The monitor hummed, its slightly green glow the only light in the room.   
  
'Ah. I must have slept in.' Heero sighed, and raked his tangled hair with a sweaty palm. He was literally drenched in sweat.  
  
He switched on the lights mechanically, and had to blink a few times to adjust to the brightness before he realized that the central conditioning had just turned on as well.   
  
'5 A.M. I haven't been home for four days.'  
  
There was a narrow door to the back corner of his office which concealed a small washroom. Heero walked purposefully toward it, but was stopped by a knock on the door across from where he stood. A certain Duo Maxwell's head peeked in a moment later, with the ridiculous grin perpetually plastered on his face turned full on.  
  
"Hi, Hee-man! Just visiting and all," came the nonchalant greeting. Duo took himself to Heero's desk and plopped right down on Heero's swivel chair. To this, Heero raised an eyebrow, which Duo easily interpreted as, 'At 5 in the morning!?'  
  
Duo, being himself, just shrugged. He was already immune to Heero's uncommunicative side - that's the reason why they picked him to do this anyway.  
  
Heero, being himself, went into the washroom as he had intended to do before the stupid imp popped into his office. When he came out a minute later, Duo had transferred himself to the couch by the windows.  
  
"Look, let me be direct with you," Duo started, and was instantly annoyed when Heero raised his eyebrows in mock disbelief. "I'm trying to be conversational here, so get with the program, man!" Duo retorted, before continuing. "Well, the Lady sent me here co'z she's worried. Heck, we're all worried. We know you're workaholic, Heero. We know you never rest till your mission's done. But this is too much. Haven't you noticed? We haven't given you the heavy work. We're trying to help you unwind here, but you still persist with your regimen of the tight ass! What's with you? Why don't you tell us? We'll help - I'll help - Well?"  
  
Heero shook his head. He wanted to laugh, really. Duo's babbling and puppy dog sincerity was wearing on him already, and he was secretly grateful to Duo because the guy practically opened him up to the rest of the human race. Duo was his window, where he could see a different 'other side'. A peaceful side...  
  
This thought made him bite his cheek. Duo was his window, yes. A painful reminder that he was forever on the other side of this peace. He'll never get there...never...  
  
"Any angst-ridden musings in that head?" Duo grinned, straightening in his seat and making an exaggeration of fixing an imaginary tie. "You know, as your one and only psychiatrist, you ought to tell me about them so we could straighten them out!"   
  
Heero really wanted to laugh now. Or, more truthfully, a part of him wanted to. The rest was dead to the world.   
  
He looked away quickly, making a sharp about-face and headed for his desk. He was tired of looking at Duo, tired of looking out the window.  
  
Duo frowned at this, he didn't know what to make of it. In truth, he didn't know what to make of Heero nowadays. The young man he had met, the Heero hidden behind the cold steel of the Perfect Soldier, was nowhere to be found now. Gone was the old rebellious glint in those cobalt eyes, the glint that Duo secretly treasured at having found. And Duo prided himself for having found them the very first time they met. A kindred spirit, that one. A potential...heck, Heero's the closest to a brother he'll ever want to have. And have had.  
  
Where are you now, Heero? Where has my brother gone?  
  
Heero's brow wrinkled and he pinched the bridge of his nose. Another migraine was coming, he could feel it. Slipping onto his chair, he closed his eyes and tried to block out all the frustration his mind persisted on chucking out. Duo was right, he was just being a tight ass.  
  
"Let go, Heero. You just need to let go." Strong warm hands, so comforting on his shoulders. Duo started rubbing on his forearms, up to his shoulders where he made big circles on Heero's tense muscles. "Bro, it's time the war is over for you. Let it be over for you, please."  
  
"War is gone," Heero replied, his voice suddenly hoarse and barely above a whisper. Duo heard him nonetheless. "War is gone, Duo. But it took my soul with it."  
  
At this Duo wanted to cry. 'Can't you see? Can't you see the line in front of you? All you've gotta do is hold on and we'll pull you up.' With a sigh, he ruffled Heero's hair and said, forcing some cheer into it, "Let's go piss off some gypsies. They'll curse you with a new one."  
  
Heero lifted his head at the odd comment. Duo grinned inwardly, and shrugged. "Just a vampire joke, you know, tv."  
  
An awkward moment passed between them, until Duo let out a large yawn. " Aww man, you made me lose some z's, ya know. Catch snooze now, and maybe," Duo took a quick look at his wristwatch, "some breakfast at that. Coming down to the mess hall with me?"   
  
The invitation was declined with a shake of Heero's head. He allowed himself a small smile, to show Duo he was fine, too. Honestly, he was all but fine.   
  
Duo took quick stock of Heero's unexpected reaction. Has the boy gone daft or something? With a shrug, he headed for the door.   
  
"Oh, Heero. The thing is," Heero looked to Duo expectantly, but the boy's back was turned as he talked on, "I'm here all the time, for you. I'm your psychiatrist, you're my brother, forget that, and you'll be facing a grinning Shinigami...Oh, wait, that's me too." A small chuckle, very Duo. If Heero had a gun, he'd be aiming for the damn jiggling braid. "Just...just means I'll be here for you, now and the afterlife...you know, both sides."   
  
The door closed as Heero's eyes widened in surprise. Both sides, indeed. Was Duo some kind of shrink? For real? Heero sighed and shook his head. He might not feel fine, but Duo certainly made him feel better. 


	4. Part 3: Padfoot and Moony

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When Blood Is Spilled On Moontide: Convergence  
by ravenhair  
  
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PROLOGUE. Part III. Moony and Padfoot.  
  
  
  
Sirius snorted as he forced himself to watch the fire grow. He wanted to be out. Out of this cave, out of this blasted hillside, out in the forest. Something was wrong, he knew it. He could feel it, with his 'dog sense', which had never let him down yet. He could feel the danger, and his gut instinct told him it has Voldemort written all over.  
  
And when Voldemort's involved, so is that rat.  
  
"Wormtail," Sirius hissed.  
  
"Beg your pardon?" Remus asked, and Sirius looked at his best friend from across the measley campfire. The firelight was small, but Remus looked really pale. He was all jittery tonight and, kind of hairy even. Sirius knew all too well what made Remus go this way, once every month since his early childhood. The full moon.  
  
"Nothing, nothing. Just that I know we both want to be out," Sirius replied, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. It was awful cold tonight, a midsummer night at that. July was supposed to be warm, Sirius knew. And he also knew that the weather had nothing to do with this particular chill.  
  
"But we have t-to sta-y," Remus said, the stutter dampening his seriousness. He knew he wasn't fit to stay, and he couldn't stay, once the transformation is complete anyways. Already, he could feel the symptoms getting worse. "As m-much as Voldem-mo-ort's sc-scent might be so stro-ng, w-whatever our l-leads show us, we can n-not be g-going out into the F-forbidden Forest at f-full mo-on!"  
  
Sirius tried to reason, "But Albus said-"  
  
"Yes, exactly! Albus said to wait and see! To observe, yes. But for Merlin's sake, from a safe distance! Albus expected us to return alive, Sirius!"   
  
The exclamation astonished Sirius as much that it was without a single stutter as it was delivered with Remus' eyes glowing bright amber, like a wolf. Remus must've noticed the unusual shock, because he was about to apologize for his outburt when the pain bit into his gut.  
  
"Moony!"  
  
"I-its s-star...start-ing..." Remus doubled over and clutched his chest. He felt the familiar pain, the tightening, the slowing beat of his heart, the shifting of his organs with that sickly slide of fluids clearly audible to him. He tried to claw at his chest, to rip his shirt open as the muscles expanded and the bones grew to bursting. By the sound of ripping to his very acute hearing, Remus knew that he already had paws for hands and the sharp inch-long claws were effectively tearing his shirt to shreds.  
  
"Let me help you out of your clothes!" Sirius sounded a bit panicked. He was rarely there for the transformations itself, often waiting patiently outside the secret entrance to the Shrieking Shack for Remus to fully change and Moony to surface with a growl.  
  
Right now, Remus was growling, too. It scared Sirius, to be this close to the beast at a full moon. But his best friend was in there, somewhere, and he hoped that Moony still remembered Padfoot. 'I sure hope you do, for both our sakes,' Sirius hoped silently. He watched as Remus tore his shirt to shreds with the scariest claws he had ever seen.   
  
"Wow, Moony. You've grown since last I saw you!"   
  
Technically, that was the truth. The whole of Harry's fourth year, when Sirius had spent most of his time as Snuffles, pining for his godson in his best friend's cottage, Remus had kept to himself in a cell once a month, down in the basement. Sirius never ventured into the basement, let alone the cell, as he preferred to spend the night in the local pub. Remus had advised him of the danger, and Sirius took heed of the advice, although it pained him not to be there for the werewolf, as he was wont to do during their Hogwarts days. Remus feared that, while he remembers Sirius, Moony might not have been able to hold on to Padfoot's scent for 13 years. It was a dangerous bet, and Remus wouldn't have Sirius losing limb or life for it.   
  
Remus eyes widened, more in alarm than surprise, to still be hearing Sirius around. He should be leaving, for Merlin's sake! Doesn't he realize the danger? Gone was the teenage werewolf, with the young, slim build that Padfoot the dog could wrestle. Even then, Padfoot was hard put to wrestle with the wolf. In its place was a rabid, wild animal who hasn't been tamed or wrestled with for 13 long, bitter years.  
  
"P-padfoot, go! Go, you fool!"  
  
"Moony! Moony!" Sirius was worried. He didn't want to leave. Not just yet. But Remus looked determined. And, Sirius reasoned, it wouldn't do to hurt the poor werewolf's feelings by discovering that he had ripped his best friend's throat while he was in wolf form. Besides -and at this Sirius believed he had the best reason yet, didn't he want to be out in the first place?  
  
A moment later, a black grim bolted out of the cave and into the woods. The moon glowed brightly in the clear sky, draping the hillside in silver and shadow. 


End file.
